


When I’m Gone

by ThePoetess



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - Fandom, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Anger, Dally Just Needs A Hug but would probably attack you if you did, Falling In Love, Friendship, Gen, Heartache, Heartbreak, Johnny Cade still dies, Love, M/M, Memories, Realization, Sadness, Sodapop and Steve go to Vietnam, Steve and Dallas growing as friends, Steve being secretly in love with Sodapop, friends - Freeform, sad Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePoetess/pseuds/ThePoetess
Summary: A Dallas Winston Story with a happy ending...Narrated by Dallas WinstonThere's another world inside of me that you may never seeThere's secrets in this life that I can't hideSomewhere in this darkness there's a light that I can't findMaybe it's too far awayOr maybe I'm just blindMaybe I'm just blind. When your education x-ray cannot see under my skinI won't tell you a damn thing that I could not tell my friendsRoaming through this darkness, I'm alive, but I'm alonePart of me is fighting this, but part of me is gone- When I'm Gone - 3 Doors Down. (Basically Dally's song) :(
Relationships: (One sided) Steve Randle/Sodapop Curtis, Dallas Winston/Johnny Cade
Kudos: 6





	1. Dedications

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this has been floating around in my head for a while now and I decided to put it down on the page... hope everyone enjoys

< First I would like to thank Ms. S.E. Hinton for The Outsiders >

< Second, I’d like to thank my readers for your support, since I love writing and hearing your thoughts on my writing >


	2. Giving it My All, but It’s Not Enough...

I remember the minute  
It was like a switch was flipped—  
I was just a kid who grew up strong enough  
To pick this armor up  
And suddenly it fit

God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago...  
I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive  
And I grew up too quick

Now you won't see all that I have to lose  
And all I've lost in the fight to protect it

I can't afford, no, I refuse to be rejected

You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong—  
My healing needed more than time

When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things  
I see the familiar  
I was little, I was weak, I was perfect too  
Now I'm a broken mirror

But I can't let you see all that I have to lose  
And all I've lost in the fight to protect it  
I can't let you in—I swore never again

I can't afford to let myself be blindsided 

\- Eight - Sleeping at Last


	3. Memories I’d Rather Forget

When I stepped out from the dark movie house into the glaring hot sun, the two things on my mind were that dumb beach movie I'd just seen and Johnny... yeah, Johnny, man. 

Johnny. The only person I'd ever cared about. Gone, and I was still kicking, still breathing out an existence I didn't want. 

It'd been some time since they'd rushed me to that same darn hospital where Johnny had - where Johnny had breathed his last breath, man, I woulda given anything to have been dyin instead of him, sixteen just was too young... now, seventeen ain't that bad, I woulda given my life for his, woulda done anything for that kid... woulda followed him if not for our meddling friends, though I don't really believe in any heaven, I think that if I'm wrong, that Johnny would be there and though I don't believe in hell either, I don't exactly think I'd be waiting at some pearly gates like Johnny would be. That kid didn't deserve what came to him, but that's what ya get for helping people, the little - I don't want to remember him, don't want to wake up with the loss of him fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday and not a year and a half ago. 

Johnny was all I had and now I don't even have that... I got nightmares, but I ain't telling no one bout that... I ain't gone soft. 

There's some memories I'd like to keep hold of, there's others I'd like to bury, then there's ones I'd rather forget. 

I don't wanna forget Johnny, I just want to forget my pain.


	4. Broken Wings

There's a small cemetery in the north part of town, we managed to bury Johnny in... we dug the hole ourselves and with every foot down I felt like crying, sobbing out my pain, but I didn't. 

I ain't gone soft. 

There's this broken angel Ponyboy found somewhere, this little statue with them broken wings, don't much care where he got it, could be stolen for all I care. It was Steve who made the headstone and Sodapop who found enough money we pooled together to get something more than a little box, if Johnny was gonna be resting under the ground, we decided he'd need to be comfortable, more than he had been in - in life. 

We all had huddled round together at the foot of the grave then, I remember it raining then, Steve uncharacteristically said that the sky was crying for our loss of him. There wasn't any of the snarky cocky Steve left, that had dried up with the tears he'd shed for our Johnny. Steve Randle, like me, never cried, but that all changed, the only thing that didn't, was me. 

Johnny wouldn't recognise me if I went soft. 

Ponyboy cried. 

Darry cried. Darry Curtis cried. 

Two-Bit cried. 

That Soc broad Marcia cried. I know cause she was there and I felt like she was an outsider to our pain. 

Sodapop cried. 

Steve wept. I didn't know it, but Johnny and him had formed a close friendship when Johnny wasn't hanging with me or that Ponyboy. 

Steve started drinking more than Two-Bit, anything he could get his hands on, chocolate cake was a thing of the past for Steve Randle as he started going to Buck's every night and came back lit to the Curtis house, all broken in bits, Sodapop would get his friend to the couch while Steve would beg to fight, I drank with him on occasion and knew he wasn't a good drunk, that cockiness would slip back in in those moments and I'd see a glimpse of what we'd all been before - before Johnny had died. 

Two-Bit in contrast had gone completely sober. 

Sodapop's 'drunk on life' disposition had gotten diminished slightly and in contrast with the past Sodapop Curtis, he hardly ever smiled and his voice was now the softest. 

Ponyboy was working extra hard to finish school we hardly saw the kid except a week after Johnny - when he randomly pulled me out to stare at the sky at sunset, I had hardly ever done that and the colours had been blinding... I don't tell people I like sunsets, I'm not soft like that kid. 

Darry don't do what he used to either. 

And me... there's much that's changed. 

We don't see much of each other after Sodapop gets drafted... Steve follows him days later and I'm worried bout them, many don't come home. 

People die every day, that's true, but when you're a Greaser, it's just a occupational hazard and you're just stealing time...


	5. Cruel Summer

The years flew past and I watched em go. 

Darry got married to a lady who looked more Soc than Greaser, Lucille was her name... Johnny woulda liked her... 

a year later they welcomed a son, and to my surprise and gratitude, they named him Johnny, Johnny, man, Johnny. 

Johnny Cade Curtis, who I called JC on occasion. Yeah, my hatred for kids went away the moment I saw him.

Sodapop wrote us and then the letters just dried up, stopped coming, and after about a month, we found out why. 

Sodapop was dead. 


	6. The Emptiness of Existence

We didn't know what exactly happened to Sodapop and we knew less about Steve. 

Somewhere we'd heard that he'd lost it, all those shreds of himself that he'd been slowly putting back together, he lost it and stopped caring after Sodapop - well, after Sodapop died. 

We heard he was around but he never came to see us, didn't end up ever sitting on that porch swing or eating chocolate cake in the small living room at the Curtis house... We heard he was around, but he was like a ghost. 

Till one day in late April, six months later. 

I found him myself.


	7. Eve of Destruction

I was in town at the Dingo, minding my own business, when I saw him walking with this loss of purpose, and I thought to myself that there wasn't a man around that had known him before, that would know him now... because Steve Randle was what I'd said he was, a ghost. 

Following him through the town was easy, as he never once looked up or at anything but the pavement and shadows in front of him, and I discovered, to my shock, that he'd been sleeping out in an old abandoned car, alone and probably cold, as a stinging autumn breeze had set in and blown the leaves away... the car was no place to live. I watched him struggle with the things I'd seen him steal, as he got into the car, bottles jangled a tune as they hit together as he moved them lethargically from the seats as he stumbled in to the confines of the old car. 

Later on, I wouldn't remember how I got to be sitting there in that rundown old car with the shadow of someone I once knew, drinking bottle after bottle till we were both flat out drunk, Steve talking bout ancient memories, ancient history, but never once mentioning Sodapop. I offered to take him back to the Curtis household, but he flat declined, even when I argued that he owed it to em, Sodapop's folks. 

He wouldn't go and I didn't blame him. 

Steve, I knew, was grieving in his own way and I could do nothing to help him. 

I didn't tell the others about him. If Steve wanted to come back, he'd come back, but in his own time, in his own way... I did make sure he had what he needed though and often times I found myself leaving a bag of groceries by his car. I noticed he hardly ate anything though and after a while I stopped leaving things for him... I had never been patient with anybody or anything, but I learned it in helping Steve. 

Nodding to myself as I walked towards the Curtis house, I thought Johnny would be proud of me, and that made the hole in my heart mend a little. 

I'd go over most nights and sit with him, just listening to him talk, most times he didn't know what he was saying, speech numbed by the drink he relied on... I tried listening as much I could, till one day, he just stopped talking and the tears came in their place.


	8. When the Truth is Found

We'd buried Johnny. 

We'd buried Sodapop. 

Now it felt like I was singlehandedly burying another friend who had died some time long ago. Steve wasn't dead, but it felt like it. 

It wasn't true... I wasn't burying him, it was like I was standing beside him, watching him dig his own grave while I was trying to fill in the hole, patch it up, and meddle where I wasn't wanted. 

But I kept trying to pull him out. 

If he could get a breath before going under again. 

So I made the mistake of bringing Ponyboy, hoping he could do what I couldn't, which was bring Steve Randle back to us.

There was a brief moment when I thought I'd succeeded. 

Years later, I'd wonder where it went wrong. 

I did find him in the Curtis house one day, staring at a picture of Sodapop, shirtless and shivering with a dead eyed look I'll never forget, Steve Randle was a ghost and just like that, he withered away till nothing was left. 

Dealing with my own troubles, I didn't know how to help him. 

Nobody did, cept the unlikeliest of places... Ponyboy.


	9. Where Did You Sleep Last Night

We were round the table, silent as a grave, Darry hidden behind his newspaper, Ponyboy and I finishing our food, Steve resting his head on the table while his hand directed his fork to force his uneaten food about on his plate. 

Ponyboy broke the silence. 

"Steve? Where did you sleep last night?" He got no answer to that, but didn't give up "Steve, I think it'd be a good idea if you came and stayed here a while... Darry agrees," 

Steve broke down halfway to the kitchen. Broken glass on the ground all around him, he'd dropped when a car had backfired somewhere far off and I watched as he became a shivering huddled wreck of a man on the floor. 

That's when he finally started talking to us again. 

That's when we found out what had happened to Sodapop.


	10. When Blood Runs Cold

You know it when your blood runs cold through ya, when all there is is you and the uncontrollable shaking, an urge to hide away, when you have that unfounded need to find some place safe. 

I watched all that flash across Steve's face, watched him shiver, his hands shaking as he tried to stop them, I set a blanket over him. He threw it off. Maybe it was the uncomfortable realization that I'd suddenly started acting compassionate that made both of us act the ways we did, Steve rejecting my kindness because it hadn't been what he knew from me before... he knew me as someone who didn't give a damn bout that. 

But now I suddenly did... I had secretly all along.

We sat together on the couch, Darry, Two-bit, and I, squished together with Ponyboy half on and half off my lap while Steve had curled into himself in Darry's chair. 

There was a silence between us that was so different from the minutes ago of hearing Steve yelling bloody murder as he flailed around, screaming his pained, Agent Orange saturated lungs to extinction, and he was screaming his best friend's name. 

He didn't look at us, didn't make any sound beyond whimpering and that was to some extent, the first time I saw just exactly what the war had done to him. 

The dog tags round his neck hit against his chest jingled together as his shoulders shook.


	11. There’s No Time For Us...

Bombs dropped around them. The cacophony of sound stinging their ears. Death rained down. 

Steve and Sodapop had been sent into the jungle for reconnaissance when it had happened. 

They were caught in a crossfire and laid low on the jungle floor, Soda was in the front of the line while Steve had been forced to the middle... it was the only time they had been separated from each other. As the attack waged on, a grenade was lobbed in a counter attack from the same line of men that Soda and Steve were in, a man from the unit had thrown it, the grenade had rolled short of the destined enemy's line, and had detonated in the line directly in front of Sodapop. 

Steve having forced himself towards the front of the line, frantically to find Soda and protect him, was blown back by the shrapnel and after the initial shock and dizzying effects wore off, he was instantly searching for Sodapop through a mass of bodies and splintered wood. It felt like minutes to him, yet the hours sped by as he searched, unknowing that shrapnel had been blown into his leg and into his side, his only task and want had been to find Soda. 

He found him a little ways up the hill. 

He was bleeding from a Capillary Haemorrhage and though Steve tried to save him, stop the flow of blood, it was in vain, but he never gave up on Sodapop, because Sodapop had never given up on him... 

with the little medical knowledge Steve had, he bandaged his best friend and carried him as best he could, to the nearest village, but Soda died along the way. Bleeding his life out into the sand.

Steve blamed himself and he never really got to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely apologizing for killing Sodapop :(


	12. The Show Must Go On

We sat there in the living room and listened to Steve's cries 

It felt like forever. 

A forever in hell. 

When night fell, he was still crying.


	13. Missing Person

About three or four in the morning, I heard the front door slam shut and I woke from my perch on the porch swing to see Steve walking out and away down the street. 

By dark, we were getting worried. 

So I went lookin' 

Found more than I wished to. 

We'd buried Sodapop. 

We'd buried Johnny. 

Now Steve Randle was singlehandedly burying himself in a cloud of drugs and alcohol. And I I understood all too well why, because I wasn't any different when Johnny. 

I’d be a hypocrite to blame him for it... 

Johnny, man, Johnny, he always had a way of making it okay, and Sodapop, Sodapop would have known what to do for Steve, but I was lost, or - maybe I wasn't, because I knew exactly how it felt. 

I found Steve outside in the empty lot, back at the car. He looked like any other soft junky I'd come across in New York, desperate, trying to find the answers in a specific drug or the bottle. 

That could have been me if I hadn't gotten out of New York. 

I started small, just inching closer to the reason and retreating, listening to Steve talk, and then the tears came, I suddenly cried too, and I sat there with a shadow of a friend of mine, wishing away life right now. 

Once Steve came down from the high, we shared a cigarette and a burger at The Dingo, cause I could tell that Steve was starving and so was I. 

I ran a fry across the plate to stop myself from 

"Ya know, Soda wouldn't want to have you be like this," before I knew it, I was holding his hand across the table and he was shaking something awful 

"He's dead, he don't gotta, he's dead and what he ain't knowing won't hurt him," Steve grunted, holding back his emotions and I pressed a little more 

"He's gone but you ain't, it's the most awful feeling, ain't it? Knowin you gotta live for em cause they ain't?" 

"I don't owe Soda nothin' - he don't need my life," I could see the creases and cracks forming and I could feel the pain hitting me as I started talking. 

“Shut up now and you’re gonna listen...” my method wasn’t the soft comfortable one but he listened anyway

"When Johnny died, I thought the same thing, I thought I didn' owe him nothin, that it'd be better if I was dead too -" I paused as pain slammed into me, thinking bout Johnny though, this pain was expected. I never thought I’d be airing my feelings like this and it felt... strange. 

"I thought if I could just apologise to him, be with him again, that it'd stop the pain and torment," 

“But it didn’t...”


	14. Do it For Johnny...

Something happened that day and in the months that followed. Something good. 

Steve and I learned to live. 

We both stopped drinking to forget, Steve was off the drugs, Ponyboy had moved off to some nice school for awhile, and Steve and I were welcomed by Darry to move in, and we did, sharing Ponyboy and- and Soda's old room. 

It took a while. 

Steve and I had a lot to work through and some days were worse than others, but when it got tough, we'd both remind each other that it was for Johnny and Sodapop that we were doing this, that we could do it... the hardest thing in the world to do, once you lose someone. Live. 

So months turned into years. 

I came in one day to find Steve putting his things and some of Soda's things into a cardboard box and my mind broke, I couldn't find words till 

"You're abandoning me?" It came out like a flash and I felt guilt and embarrassment like I'd never before, but Steve just laughed and annoyingly ruffled my hair, though, for some reason, it wasn't that annoying as I'd made it out to be. 

"Well, there's just too many memories around here that I still can't face, so I think I should move on. You're welcome to come if you'd like, I'm thinking bout goin all the way to Texas, man," "Texas," I thought bout it for minutes and I couldn't help but head towards the closet where an odd assortment of my clothes, Steve's clothes, and of course, Sodapop's flannels, mixed together. I couldn't hold back a smile or the nod that came after "Texas, Texas don't sound half bad." 

I thought, as I helped Steve pack up our whole lives, in the place we loved the best, that we'd done it, we'd finally done it for Johnny, because living had been what Johnnycake had wanted, and I was gonna live my life because he couldn't live his, and that was a better tribute to his memory than letting my life go. 

Looking back, I think Sodapop and Johnny would agree.


	15. So This is Goodbye

"You're sure you've got everything you need?" Ponyboy Curtis hovered round us as we finished packing up our whole lives into the flatbed of Darry's old truck

"Pajamas? Food? Switchblade?" Steve stuffed a hand over the kid's mouth and sadly smiled "Anyone ever told ya you talk to much, kid?" Pony's good natured eyes twinkled softly "Only you, and Steve, take a shower? Your hand smells of motor grease, now n-now get out of here you bums," I ruffled his hair and put on an angry pout and socked him one on the arm "Who ya calling bums, man?" 

Steve looked at the youngest Curtis brother and he quickly wiped his nose with his hand and arm before he sucked them fighting emotions back in and leveled at Pony, staring at him softly, which made Pone a bit freaked out "Steve? Why ya looking at me like that?" "I -" Steve opened his mouth only to close it once more 

"I never hated you, Pony," he muttered out and was quickly clambering off the car hood, and enveloping the younger boy in a tight bone breaking embrace "Steve, you're squashing me, hurts" Steve loosened his grip and looked down at Pone with tears forcing themselves down his face, he drew an intake of breath "Y-you - h-have I ever told ya, y-you're growing up to look just like s-s-Soda? H- I think he'd be real proud of you Horseman," 

I watched Ponyboy tear up proudly and almost squeeze the little life that was returning to Steve's form “I think h—he’d be proud of you too Steve, Dally,” he fixed the blue and green flannel Steve was wearing. 

Finally they broke apart and grew awkward again "Ya know Pone, I I'm I'm real proud of you too," Pony fained fainting in surprise "The Steve Randle is proud of me? Really? I might just die of shock." They both shuffled, Sodapop's little brother and his best friend 

"S-so I guess this is goodbye..." Pony muttered at the ground "I guess this is goodbye forever?" 

Steve had wrapped an arm round his shoulder and guided him to the porch "It ain't forever, Horseman, it's just gonna be different, ya know? We'll still be looking at the same sunsets," with a final hug and one from me, Steve and I set off driving and I looked suspiciously sideways at Steve who was smiling like he'd just robbed an automobile shop "What you smiling bout? And what was that gushy stuff bout them sunsets?" Steve pulled himself out of some memory and shook himself 

"Can't have me driving like that, in my head, I coulda damn nearly crashed." He then looked over and shrugged at the question "Oh, that? That was ta get the kid off our backs bout everything, wasn't it?" I shrugged as reply "I don't know man, man, I don't know, ya seemed pretty sincere bout it," my comment got Steve Randle mildly disgruntled and he growled at the road "Look man, I ain't gone soft, you won't catch me looking at no sunset." As much as Steve denied it though, he always watched the sunset. After Johnny's note, I did too.


	16. Two Years and a Lot to Show...

Two years... they'd been away from Tulsa. Two years had brought a lot of changes... 

"Dal," "Mmmph?" Was the muttered reply that greeted Steve Lucas Randle as he flopped down beside me and he poured a drink noncommittally "You ever think bout going on back to Tulsa?" I laughed at him pretty hard "Getting homesick are we? Never figured you for the homesick type, must be going soft or something," Steve swatted my arm hard "Ahhh Dal cut it out..." 

Thinkin for a moment, I nodded “Think it’d be good to go back,” I muttered, a short smile lingering on my face “Gotten a might homesick too I reckon, you dig okay Steve?” 

He just smiled in return.

Tulsa may have had it’s share of bad memories, but it’d always be home. Tulsa was in our veins and that’s where we’d made a family... 

Johnny, Sodapop, Ponyboy, Two-Bit, Darry, Steve, and I... closer than anything else, we was family...


	17. Home is a Welcome Place

It ain't easy going back. It’s a rough drive and when we get back, it’s bittersweet. 

The Curtis house always reminded me of some good and some bad memories, and I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for the kid who ain't a kid no more, since he's seen too much of what the world can do to you when luck is stacked against you and you're just another name in an unfair system. 

The Curtis house reminds me of Johnny. 

And that ain't easy. Shit. I ain't cryin' - I still ain't gone soft, that's for kids like Pony, kids like Johnny, not me. 

It was here that I met Johnny, and it was here that I made my home. 

I mean, there's just something about this place that calls me home, maybe it's cause of Johnny, he was here near every night, as was I - I came for Johnny, but stayed for the good food and the sense of worth and belonging I got with the gang. 

That sense of belonging and not belonging was always playing out a little war inside my head, I never could tell if people around me actually cared for real bout me, I knew for certs that my ol'man wouldn't care if I wound up dead in a ditch somewhere, my insecurities from past wrongs, past abuse, made me doubt everyone and their motives. The first time I ever met Mrs. Curtis, for example, I was completely concerned that she'd cared about me enough to take me in, they'd been struggling making ends meet and all, then there were about four more boys she cared for. Mrs. Curtis was the kindest woman ever to walk the earth, when she died, a little part of me died too. I still got a picture - well, I did, of Mrs. Curtis and I, she was hugging me something awful, but somehow it felt right. 

The first time I met her and her family, I felt as if I'd come home from a nightmare. 

Then that nightmare won out. 

I attended their funerals, but even then, no tears came to me. 

Now I was back, sort of, staring at the house where it had all happened, where my journey had took a sharp detour down a road of the unknown. I felt truly safe there, till that day. 

I guess they trusted me enough to babysit the littlest Curtis, I wasn't too interested, but Mrs. Curtis had asked and try as I might, I could never say no to that woman, all I felt from her was acceptance, a sense that she knew of my brokenness, but loved me even with all of my flaws. I wanted to do right by her. So I was babysitting the kid, not hating a child for once cause with Ponyboy it was different, he wasn't as demanding, as whiny, he didn't pitch fits, it was easy being round him, though I could tell how I scared him. 

Then it happened. 

I was sat on the porch swing and Pony was sat on the other side, pencil in hand, drawing, lord knows what, when Darry came home with a shattered look in his eyes. 

I don't think he understood, it shattered me just as it did them. 

It was a Greaser's luck, or lack there of, that started it into a string of bad events. 

Starting with the jumping of Johnny by them Socs. 

Here's an idea... I wonder if I could haunt em. Would serve those bastards right. I'm a ghost, but I ain't lost my ability to be terrifying. 

There was a sense of belonging there that I never felt anywhere else, there was always a place at the table, on the rundown couch... actually, as I look around with inquisitive eyes, lighting a cancer stick, I notice it's more rundown than ever, Darry ain't doing what he used to, nobody is, and there's a Sodapop shaped hole cut deep in everyone's hearts, this feeling of emptiness that comes with loss. 

Ponyboy comes from his room and he don't look like Ponyboy. 

He’s grown since we last saw him and he looks just like Sodapop... 

“Hey kid,” I say, knowing Steve ain’t fixin to talk soon since he’s pretty much in shock at Ponyboy’s appearance, looking so like Sodapop that it’s startling. 

Pony shifts and turns and smiles “Hey you no good bums,” he says in a speechless voice


	18. The Sound and Sorrow

“Thought you was him...” Steve mutters, smoking the end of his cancer stick till it’s hanging out his mouth, as he gives Ponyboy these sideways glances, these little heartsick looks which make my heart break as I see em. 

“You thought I was Soda,” Ponyboy says almost silently and so sincerely as he smokes, tapping the cigarette out “I know...” he lights another against his lips “Glad you boys are home,” he states after a minute, eyes stopping on Steve’s profile “Can you believe it? I started missing y’all,”


	19. Everything Ain’t Right...

“Everything alright Steve?” I ask when I get up to steal Darry’s newspaper before it arrives into his hands like it does every morning, like clockwork, and I see Steve hunched in the porch swing “Had one of em old nasty dreams again?” I go and sit beside him, newspaper all but forgotten by the steps.

“Funny... I I hadn’t had one since, till we came back.” We’re silent before I glance over “It’s hard seeing Ponyboy like that, ain’t it?” Steve looks up and over at me “Like what?” “Lookin so much like him, like a spitting image...” “Yeah? Well life never was fair...”


End file.
